When I Returned to England
by mrswentworth1904
Summary: A little one shot about what might have happened if Frederick did return to Kellynch when he was back in England two years after Anne ended their engagement.


**A/N So I know I should be working on Pushed Out, and I am I assure you, but this has been pinging around my head for a while now, and I just had to get it out before I carried on, so here it is, enjoy!**

"Captain Wentworth!"

"Edward," the younger man lightly admonished his elder brother. "Frederick will suffice." he smiled.

"Can you blame a man for being proud of his sibling? You have accomplished so much in such a short time. Our brother Admiral Croft speaks highly of your success indeed." Edward beamed back at him. Frederick shuffled uncomfortably on the doorstep, and sensing his brothers agitation Edward gestured for him to enter. "But come in, come in!" The curate welcomed him into his humble cottage.

Frederick felt at home immediately, it was just as he remembered, and settled into a chair by the fire, while his brother went about seeing to the tea. "How are Sophie and the Admiral?" he called out after his brothers back disappearing into the kitchen. "I was sorry to have missed their wedding." he added.

"They understood." he called back, and then reappeared carrying a tray covered in tea things. "You were away. They of all people understand. It did not prevent them, or I, being constantly anxious about your safety aboard The Asp. It was a frightening time indeed." He shook his head.

Captain Wentworth thought of his time aboard the ill-fated sloop and how lucky he had been to not only make it back in one piece, but with a hefty prize included. That ship had made him rich and put him in good stead for his next command. He would always be grateful. "I understand it must have been quite grave at the time. I can only apologise for not being able to inform you of my safety sooner."

His brother only nodded looking into the distance, as if remembering the time well. "And now you are a Captain and are to be given a new ship to command." he said more lightly.

"The Laconia. Yes."

"So," the other gentleman sat back drinking his tea. "Why has my illustrious brother the sea Captain returned to the lowly abode of a Monkford curate?"

"I wished to see my brother." he offered, to which the elder Wentworth only tipped his head on one side and raised a sceptical eyebrow. Frederick frowned and replaced his own cup and saucer to the table, exhaling loudly. "Is she still at home?" he muttered.

" _She_?" The brothers exchanged a look that told the eldest the younger was not in the mood for his usual teasing. "Yes. Although," he winced, "I have to tell you, I do not think it will be that way for long."

"Oh?" The instant relief which had flooded Frederick at his brother's first word, now left him with the same rapidity from whence it came.

"There is a young gentleman, Charles Musgrove, who has been paying her a great deal of attention of late, and I have heard from more than one source, he plans to make her an offer."

Frederick felt queasy. It had only been a short while, but he had always imagined her already married by now, while he was away and unable to prevent it. Knowing it was happening while he was here, was unnerving to say the least. The room became stifling and anger rose up inside of him. "Musgrove? The Musgrove's of Uppercross?"

"Yes, he is the eldest son, are you acquainted?"

"No, but I have heard of them before." He paused, remembering from what source he had heard of them. "I believe he was away from home when I was here last. I did not have any interaction with the parents, other than attending the same assemblies." They both fell silent. In truth it had been _her_ who had spoken of her family's closest neighbours, and how well liked the family were around. "You think she will accept." he stated quietly.

His brother steepled his fingers and avoided the others eyes. "I believe there is no reason for her not to. She is two and twenty now, I think her father will show no objection. This time."

At the mere mention of those who had showed him only objection and distaste, he rose to his feet and began to pace around.

His brother watched him warily. "Although-" he began.

"Yes?" Frederick interrupted.

"She has shown him no particular favour, not like ..." he looked up at the other man, " _before_. And in my opinion he would be better setting his cap at the younger sister Mary. She follows him about like a stray dog, much more attentive than her sister."

"The younger and not the elder?"

Edward frowned. "No, it would seem the family still hold out high hopes for the elder sister. They expect Miss Elizabeth Elliot to marry well, despite her advancing years, and -if rumours are to be believed- dwindling dowry. There is a cousin I believe who is marked for her."

Frederick shook his head, it seemed that if left to the family's influence and interference, none of the Elliot sisters would get what they actually wanted.

He readied himself for the question he was about to ask. "Have you seen her lately?"

"Elizabeth?" Edward asked. Again the brothers shared a look that informed Edward his brothers' patience had not improved. "No." He looked down disappointed. "Only at church. I suspect her frequent visits in the year six, were not just to ask my opinion of the books we had both read, and more to do with my visitor at the time." He looked pointedly at his brother. "She stopped coming after you left." He frowned, "she stopped doing a great many things she did before after you left." he added quietly.

"You speak like I was the cause of the changes in her. Like it was _she_ who was left broken hearted."

"You were the one who left _her_." Edward reminded him.

"How could I stay? Stay here and not be with her?" he snapped, turning away from his brother. "It would have been a pain I could not have endured, so I left. She could not, so I did."

"As you say, she could not. _She_ had no choice but to comply with her families wishes, she was not of age or means." Edward pointed out. Frederick scowled at his brother. "I do not mean to champion her side," he continued in spite of the looks he was receiving. "Only to explain. You were suffering and you were right to do what you had to do to ease that suffering." He pointed his finger at his brother. "But do not for a moment believe you were the only one who felt the pain of your attachment coming to an end." His voice dipped. "I watched her, when I could not watch you. I believe the affects would have been similar. I saw her decline, the bloom of youth all but disappear and a constant melancholy take over her." Edward informed him sadly.

"Surely marriage to Musgrove will put a stop to her melancholy state and return her bloom." Frederick hissed.

"Perhaps. Although we both know it is doubtful. The love you two shared -although brief- was none the less great in strength."

"But not strong enough." Frederick bit back. "Please let us speak no more about it."

Edward nodded once and took a sip of tea. "So what are you doing here, if not for _that_ reason?"

"I have made some money, a name for myself, it seemed fitting to return to where it all began-"

"And prove to all those who doubted you what you have accomplished?" Edward interrupted. "Careful brother, pride can be a dangerous thing, almost as much as revenge."

"It is neither pride nor revenge which has me returning." he declared. "I wished to come back as I realised I had left something behind," he said quietly, and then almost to himself; "but now I fear it is lost forever." He crossed back to the fire place and stood looking into the flames resounding himself. "I shall leave at first light, and board the Laconia, from then on I do not know when I shall return. The war is upon us."

"Well for my sake and that of your family, I hope it will be soon over and that you will be safe."

The next morning Captain Wentworth left his brothers' house as planned, and although he sought only the path back to his ship, he could not help but bring his horse around and in the direction of Kellynch Hall. He would just look upon the places he once knew, that was what he told himself. He did not mean to look for _her_ , or hope she may appear, it was early after all.

 _Yet_ she did often rise early, or she did. That was when they had met, when everyone else was still abed. He found his head almost of its own accord turn and look towards the tree –their tree- the one by which she would often be found reading and where he would join her. He was not expecting the lady of his thoughts to materialise in front of him in that very spot, but there she was. She was too far away to notice him and he was thankful for that small mercy, while he took the time to compose himself.

For a split second he intended continuing in that direction and going to her. He could confess the feelings he had tried so hard, and yet so unsuccessfully, to keep buried and hidden from not only his brother. Feelings that over the past two and half years had not lessened despite his every wish for them to. He had tried to move on, to think only of the terrible thing she had done to him and not all the good times they had shared. He had tried to forget her, but in his thoughts and in his heart she had remained steadfast.

He was then distracted by the appearance of another. He was disappointed and angry to find someone had had the same idea as he.

He watched the young man approach. Despite not being introduced, he knew this had to be Charles Musgrove, he also knew from his brothers information their union was expected, from their closeness he suspected it was imminent, and he did not wish to witness that for anything.

Realising with a heavy heart there was truly nothing left for him there, he rode away. Letting the Laconia take him away from his past, even if it invaded his dreams at night when he had no control over where his thoughts roamed. His days at least were taken up with war and so it was easy not to think about the young woman he had hoped to make his wife.

It would be another six years later before he looked upon her again.

Anne Elliot watched the retreating form of Charles Musgrove as it grew smaller.

He had been surprised by her answer, a surprise in its self, as she had never shown him any interest other than friendship. She certainly never incited matrimony. How could she accept Charles as her husband; to be his wife? She had decided long ago she could never marry, not when she had already given her heart away. Since _his_ leaving had rendered it broken, she could not give it away again. She was firmly against marrying for anything other than love, and so she would remain single living out her life as a spinster.

That look of disappointment on Charles face had been so familiar, it was so similar to another time when another man had given her the same pained look. She hoped Charles would settle on another soon, to soften the blow, she had hinted he look toward Mary, she knew her sister held an admiration for him. It was not quite as fierce as her own feelings had been for _him_ back then, but there was an affection to be sure.

Anne worried she may have been a little shorter with Charles than she had intended, he had thrown her off guard when he appeared in her personal secret place. Her sacred spot; the place where _they_ would meet and be together. After the last time, it did not hold the same pleasantness as it had once, but she still felt closer to _him_ there than anywhere else, like he was somehow around her still, and to have someone invade that fantasy had irked her somewhat. She had had barely enough time to compose herself from the shock of seeing him there, when he had blurted out his proposal.

When _he_ had asked, he had been just as clumsy and nervous, but she had found it adorable and endearing. With Charles, she felt only discomfort on his behalf and embarrassment for them both.

She sighed and collected her book, there would be no more reading today. She stole herself ready for the onslaught she would receive at her decision to reject him, it was then something caught her eye. She looked up towards the meadow in the distance, the one _he_ would always cross to get to her. She remembered back then, it seemed time stood still, it took so long for him to reach her.

She looked again and gasped as her legs almost gave way beneath her. A sight so reminiscent of the past stole the breath from her lungs. It could not be … surely it was a trick of the light, but it looked like...

The gentleman riding the horse disappeared from her view and Anne had to conclude herself with the fact she must have imagined the whole thing. She had been thinking of _him_ , so her imagination had brought him to life. That was all. _He_ could not have been here. _He_ was hundreds of miles away, or so she had been led to believe from the snippets of information she managed to glean from the newspapers her father read. No, _he_ would never come back here, to her.

She would never see _him_ again – or so she thought.


End file.
